Having duly “wiped the dust of the Sublime Threshold with his face”—a Turkish figure of speech not far removed from a literal statement of fact—Sir John expected that the Capitulations would forthwith be handed to him. There was not, in his mind, the shadow of an excuse for putting him off longer. But when he applied to the Kehayah, he found that, instead of everything being settled, as he had been led to believe, the Grand Vizir and his Ministers had only just begun to study the Articles. Indeed, the draft which he had sent in two and a half months ago had been lost during the festal confusion, and, after a long search (the Kehayah and the Rais Effendi each saying that the other had it), was but lately discovered in the hands of a page of the Grand Vizir’s.[139] So all those messages about the Articles being read over, considered, passed, etc. etc., had been from beginning to end a tissue of poetic inventions! The trick was gross, but not unusual. Nor, fairly viewed, was it undeserved: the Turks had begun by telling Sir John frankly that no business could be transacted during the Feasts; as he went on pestering them, they had no alternative but to lie—politeness forbade any other course towards a man whose wine they drank.
Although unspeakably disgusted, our Ambassador would fain suppress his mortification: he was old enough, and man of the world enough, to know that, where one cannot strike, one must smile. But never was smiling more difficult. The Plague from Adrianople now travelled to Karagatch, and first seized the daughter of our Chaplain’s landlady.
Up to that moment the English had dwelt there as happily as might have been expected. In spite of the Grand Signor’s edicts, the village was a notorious resort for citizens in quest of liquid solace. Every now and then the Aga of the Janissaries came to see that the law was observed; but, as he made at least 10,000 dollars a year by its breach, he gave at least one hour’s notice of his raids. The greatest purveyor of spirituous consolation in the locality was Covel’s friend, the village priest, who used to secure his stock by hiding it in the church. Englishmen could not, of course, let themselves be outdone by Turks and Greeks. It has always been the way of our race to develop its greatest capacity in the hour of sternest need. So they drank deeply to find joy, more deeply still to drown fear: trying all the while to appear outwardly unconcerned. The Rev. John wrote home that he frequently went into Adrianople, and had become so inured to funerals that he minded no more meeting a dead man than a dead calf. That may be; but when the little girl with whom he had been prattling died, it was not so pleasant.
In a few days the epidemic spread through the whole village, and drove the Ambassador and his party out into the fields, where they set up their tents, and waited.
The Articles, once recovered from the Vizir’s page, were studied by the pashas, revised by the Rais Effendi, and brought to the Ambassador in what he understood to be their final form. When they were read over to him, Sir John heaved a sigh of relief: this time there could be no doubt that his ordeal was at an end. But alas! when they were shown to the Grand Vizir, he caused some of them to be straightway incorporated in the Capitulations, but the financial clauses to be submitted to the Tefterdar for his opinion, and the Article regarding Englishmen turning Turks to be referred to the Mufti. So the pudding that had for a moment appeared ready to be served up, was once more in the pot.[140]
The situation might have been amusing, but for the fact that Sir John did not think it so. Sir John felt intensely unhappy, and when Sir John was unhappy nobody connected with him could be happy. How those wretched Dragomans must have blessed him!
A fresh series of conferences ensues. First the Dragomans are sent to the Tefterdar, who wishes to know what do we want these new clauses for, and why the Capitulations may not stand as they are. They reply that the reason is very simple: we want to be certain and not fall every day into disputes with ignorant and impertinent Custom-House officials. The Tefterdar smiles: That, he says, is not the true reason: we intend to start importing a finer cloth and want to pay no more duty than for the cheaper. The Tefterdar has hit the mark with wonderful accuracy; but the Dragomans repudiate the vile insinuation. Then again, he goes on: that Aleppo Hattisherif—why can it not remain as it has been for so many years: why must it needs be put into the Capitulations now? However, in the end, he declares himself satisfied and promises to pass everything.[141]
But Sir John, whose soul has been stirred to most dismal scepticism, cannot rest. “What troubled me most,” he says, “was for the three Articles referrd’ to the Tefterdar which were of the greatest concern, knowing that he was a Judicious, sower, severe man, and in His apprehension very quick also.” What harm might not this shrewd Turk work? Full of misgivings, next morning the Ambassador goes once more into Adrianople and seeks a personal interview with the Kehayah. At this conference he surpasses himself: “I muster up all the Arguments that I could think of.” After listening to his Excellency’s oration, the Kehayah, suave as ever, says: “Ambassadour, all things by the Grace of God will be well, for I will stand by you to the outmost, but send not your Druggermen to the Tefterdar till I advise you the hour.”[142] This speech brings sweet balm to the soul of Sir John, who then proceeds to touch upon the title, Padishah. He is very proud to have been the first to give His Majesty this title before the Grand Signor; but that was only planting the seed: the fruit had yet to be plucked. He receives assurances that, as the Kehayah thinks the claim just and reasonable, he will move the Vizir again about it. Further, our Ambassador mentions the question of the Latin friars, and on this point also the Kehayah is eager to oblige: only he needs a Petition (Arz) for the Vizir. Sir John, who has the paper ready, hands it to him, and departs recomforted.[143]
The Cordeliers had all this time been with Sir John, filling his ears day and night with the tale of their misfortunes, exaggerating them, and laying the chief blame for them upon the French Ambassador. They had received him at Jerusalem with all honour imaginable and at great cost, expecting wonders from his protection, and he had caused their ruin. The object of these tirades obviously was to inspire Finch with the desire to capture the position which Nointel had forfeited; and Finch would very much like to do so. But he was cautious. He defended Nointel, telling the Friars that the noble Marquis certainly did intend nobly, according to his power; but the inexpedient murder of the Greek Caloyers, added to Ahmed’s dislike of the French, had made the Grand Vizir implacable. Of course, he would do all he could for them. But the Ambassadors of France and Venice were their official protectors. Therefore he advised them to inform those Ambassadors that he was disposed to protect them, but that he would be more earnest in it if they who had orally solicited his aid before he left Constantinople would repeat their request in writing. The “good Fathers” did as they were bidden; but the result was negative. The Venetian replied that, for certain reasons, he could not write to Sir John to undertake their protection, and that he verily believed his undertaking it would not be pleasing to the French Ambassador. The French Ambassador did not reply at all. While both diplomats wished to make use of the Englishman as an auxiliary, neither wanted to be supplanted by him. Sir John understood the position perfectly: “if a Hattesheriffe had bin procurd’ by me in favour of the Fathers it must have runn in the King my Masters name, which the Fathers Protection being in both their Capitulations had bin a slurr to them.”[144] Nevertheless, he pursued his way, and after that most satisfactory interview with the Kehayah he had great hopes of success.
Meanwhile he thought it advisable, plague or no plague, to go into Adrianople again and pay his respects to the Mufti, upon whose decision depended one at least of the new Articles. He found the “Wisest of the Wise” sitting cross-legged, with a coarse kind of linsey-woolsey blanket over his knees and three or four books beside him: a swarthy, good-natured elderly gentleman, who received the Ambassador with the same ceremony as the Grand Vizir. There was no conversation worth mention. After some formal compliments, Sir John hurried back to his rural retreat.[145]